


We are all Embers (From the Same Fire)

by DarveysBughead



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Annual Sex Day, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Dirty Talk, Episode Tag, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship/Love, Horny Betty Cooper, Hotel Sex, Le Bonne Nuit, Lovers, Lust, One Year Later, Oral Sex, Please Don't Hate Me, Pops - Freeform, Praise Kink, Sex, Smut, Time Skips, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29241165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarveysBughead/pseuds/DarveysBughead
Summary: He was still cursing himself for his stupidity at believing they’d show up when he was jolted from his thoughts.“Hey, Jug.”He froze at the sound of Betty’s voice, his hand still extended toward the truck, keys in his hand. He turned around slowly, half afraid that it was his mind playing tricks on him, but it was true; Betty was there.- A tag to 5.03; what if Betty HAD showed up at Pop's that night, reigniting a flame that had never truly been extinguished?
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 28
Kudos: 176





	1. Year One

**Author's Note:**

> I know there are a ton of amazing writers filling in this moment and fixing it, and giving us all the closure we needed after the heartbreaking way 5.03 ended. Here's my take!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a genius, Betts. What did I ever do without you?”
> 
> A silence fell between them then, and they stared at each other, the air feeling tense suddenly, crackling with the intensity of something he either couldn’t identify or was too afraid to. Neither spoke for a moment and then Betty got up, moving around the booth to slide in next to Jughead. He didn’t move, other than to slide a little further in to give her room, but she followed, putting her hand on his cheek and twisting her body to face him.
> 
> “I miss you, Jug,” she whispered, “I miss you every fucking day.”
> 
> The words shook him to his core, especially her rare use of a curse word, but what shook him more was her glassy eyes, unshed tears glistening there, waiting to fall. The sincerity in her words was undeniable, but the expression on her face was breaking his heart. It felt somehow worse than the distance they’d created in those last few weeks together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my fix-it fic! I couldn't bear how sad I felt after Jughead was left alone at pop's a year later, so I had to fix it.

Jughead walked out the door of Pops, dejected and hurt that his friends had forgotten the promise they’d all made. It wasn’t like it was new for one of Archie’s vows to fall through, but the disappointment still stung. He felt rejected. Three days earlier he’d considered texting them all, opening up the chain of messages that hadn’t been touched in over six months, but he’d given them the benefit of the doubt and expected that they didn’t need a reminder; they’d show up. Now, he just felt stupid. 

He rifled through his bag, finding the keys to the secondhand truck he’d recently bought with the money he’d earned working in the campus bookstore. It was rusty and a piece of shit, but the engine was in great condition and it was enough to get him around and give him a more stable form of transport than the bike, which had been sitting untouched in his father’s garage in Toledo for three months.

He was still cursing himself for his stupidity at believing they’d show up when he was jolted from his thoughts. 

“Hey, Jug.” 

He froze at the sound of Betty’s voice, his hand still extended toward the truck, keys in his hand. He turned around slowly, half afraid that it was his mind playing tricks on him, but it was true; Betty was there. His breath caught in his throat and he fought the urge to throw himself at her. She was more beautiful than ever, if that was even possible. 

“Betty.” He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at the sight of her. It was like he’d been asleep for a year and finally he was awake. His world brightened again and he could see everything he’d been passing by; the way the neon light from Pop’s sign cast a glow over the carpark, the way the quiet felt so much comforting than in did in Iowa, even the way the car across the light was sparkling as if it had just been freshly washed. 

“It’s so good to see you,” she said, and her words were so genuine he almost wanted to cry. She was smiling at him, her whole face lit up and he took another moment to look at her, to take her in. 

She was practically glowing. Her hair was longer, falling over her shoulders in soft golden waves, framing her face in the most miraculous way. She’d always looked practically angelic with her hair down and this was no exception. Her legs were encased in dark jeans, ending in black flats, and a powder blue sweater was hugging her every curve. It wasn’t a particularly different look from anything she’d worn when they were together but it was drawing him in and he felt like he was slowly losing his mind as he gazed at her. How had he gotten through an entire year without her beauty in his daily orbit?

It felt like an eternity had passed while he looked at her, but it was merely seconds before he stepped toward her, the pair of them falling into a hug that felt like coming home. 

“God, it’s good to see you,” he breathed as he held her in his arms, the shape of her body still moulding perfectly to his own. They held one another for a long moment, and the warmth of her body seeped into his, chasing away the coldness that he’d felt growing in his chest for the past forty-something weeks since they’d parted. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent that was so familiar and so comforting and so  _ Betty _ .

“You want to go in and get a milkshake?” She asked when they parted. 

“I’d love to.”

  
  


They sat for a long time in their booth at Pop’s, talking and laughing and catching up on everything they’d missed in the last year of their lives. 

Betty was thriving at Yale. Her first year of undergrad had gone by in a flash, a blur of classes and studying and working. They chuckled over both having picked up jobs in their respective campu bookstores, although neither were particularly surprised by it. She’d made some friends and had gotten along well with her dorm-mate, Lydia. She raved for almost twenty minutes about a class she’d taken called The Criminal Mind; her face lighting up with glee as she talked about her fascination with the subject and how she was looking further into maybe joining the FBI, trying to do some good in penance for everything her father and Charles had done. 

They commiserated together at the fact that they’d all lost touch and hadn’t spoken properly in months. Their text chain had slowed to a trickle within two months of school starting; first Archie fading out as his basic training ended and he moved into advanced individual training. Veronica was next, getting caught up in Barnard and falling back into her New York City social circles. The last few messages had been Betty and Jughead exchanging memes, and then everything had stopped altogether after that. That had been at Christmas, when their last messages containing festive wishes had gone unanswered by their friends. 

After their first milkshakes were finished, Betty came up with an idea. “Hey, why don’t we order V and Arch’s usual milkshakes and drink them as a tribute?”

“That sounds good,” Jughead replied. Her heart was still so pure and selfless and he wanted to cross to the other side of the booth and press kisses all over her face. “A strawberry and a double chocolate?”

“Exactly.” Betty grinned widely. “Hey, Pop? Could we get a strawberry and a double chocolate milkshake please?”

Pop looked at the two empty seats in their booth and smiled fondly at them. “Of course, Betty.”

When the milkshakes arrived, Betty raised hers up in a toast. “To Archie and Veronica. Maybe next time they’ll be here with us.”

“To Archie and Veronica,” Jughead echoed, tapping his glass against hers with a soft  _ clink _ . He took a sip and then screwed up his face. “How does Archie drink these? It’s so sweet!”

“Here, let’s switch,” Betty replied, taking the milkshake from him, seemingly unaffected by the way their fingers grazed against one another as she did so. She closed her mouth over the straw and watched him sip from the chocolate, nodding in approval.

“That’s more like it,” he told her, “I can barely manage your vanilla shakes, that thing might have killed me.”

“I know, you’re far more of a savoury tooth than a sweet one,” Betty laughed. 

“I’m just salty,” he stated and she burst into giggles, her hand over her mouth so she didn’t spit her milkshake all over the table. He watched her laughing and couldn’t help joining in, happy to see he could still bring that look to her face; joy and merriment and pure delight. It made him nostalgic for their high school days, made him wish he’d appreciated her more while he had her.

They sat for a while longer, talking about her mother, and his father, and Jellybean and Polly. It felt so normal, like no time had passed at all, like they’d only seen each other the day before, but her longer hair and the existential ache in his heart reminded him that it had been almost a year since he’d been with her and that he was barely holding himself together. 

Jughead tried not to talk about his own college experience too much, so he cursed himself a little when Betty reached across the table to put her hand on his arm and asked, “so tell me about Iowa.”

“Uh… yeah, it’s good.”

“C’mon, Juggie, you have to have more to say than that. You didn’t use a single big word,” Betty teased and Jughead gave her a wry smile, unable to help the leap in his heart at her use of his old nickname.

“It’s… compelling drudgery. It’s also taxing, and monotonous, and way more competitive than I was expecting. How’s that?”

“Better,” Betty said with a laugh. “Are you getting a lot of writing done?”

“On my own time, yeah. Classes are… well it’s a lot more grammatical lessons and sentence structure and it all feels very… formal. You know?”

“None of those are things you need to learn, Jug. You’ve been writing since we were basically kids, and you read more than anyone else I know. You must be acing your classes.”

Jughead heaved a deep sigh and Betty’s gaze became more intense. He couldn’t bear the way she was looking at him; like she could see into his soul and he knew if he didn’t tell her everything she would drag it out of him.

“I’m not really… succeeding at school. What they’re teaching us just isn’t the way I like to write. We do exercises where we have to write exactly a hundred words on something mundane, and we can’t go over or under on the word count. We’re asked for pieces of work that are perfectly structured and a single error can be a fail. We have to re-write classic pieces of prose and “improve” them. I can’t improve on Salinger, or Fitzgerald or Hemingway! They’re the greats for a reason.” He sighed, noticing suddenly that Betty’s hand was still on his arm, and her thumb was moving soothingly against his skin. “I’m still writing my Jason Blossom novel, and I’m really making good progress on it, but that’s all in my own time, for my own enjoyment. I’m not really enjoying school, truth be told.”

“I’m sorry, Jug. I’m sorry it’s not working out like you wanted. What are you going to do?”

“There isn’t anything  _ to  _ do. I go back, I do three more years and I graduate with a creative writing degree.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do,” he replied simply. “I can’t let my dad down. Not now, not after everything he’s been through.”

“What about changing your major? Or minoring in something. Maybe more variety will draw you out of the monotony.”

“There is a screenwriting course I’m looking forward to in the spring semester…”

“So do that! Pick up some new classes and diversify the program a little. Maybe that’ll help.”

She looked so excited, so eager for him to enjoy his college experience the way she was, and he couldn’t help but be swept up in her enthusiasm. Maybe it was possible to change things up. There was no rule that said he couldn't change his mind about a creative writing degree, nothing stopping him from diversifying his interests.

He grinned widely at her. “You’re a genius, Betts. What did I ever do without you?”

A silence fell between them then, and they stared at each other, the air feeling tense suddenly, crackling with the intensity of something he either couldn’t identify or was too afraid to. Neither spoke for a moment and then Betty got up, moving around the booth to slide in next to Jughead. He didn’t move, other than to slide a little further in to give her room, but she followed, putting her hand on his cheek and twisting her body to face him.

“I miss you, Jug,” she whispered, “I miss you every fucking day.”

The words shook him to his core, especially her rare use of a curse word, but what shook him more was her glassy eyes, unshed tears glistening there, waiting to fall. The sincerity in her words was undeniable, but the expression on her face was breaking his heart. It felt somehow worse than the distance they’d created in those last few weeks together.

“I miss you too,” he replied softly, and then mercifully, her mouth was on his, soft and sweet and everything he’d been craving. The ever-present knot in his stomach began to unravel, his shoulders relaxed and his eyes drifted shut as he gave himself over to the kiss, committing it to memory, every second so precious to him. 

It was over sooner than he wanted, and Betty pressed her forehead against his, her soft huff of breath washing over his lips and chin. 

“I still love you,” he breathed, his lips so close to hers that it was a Herculean effort not to kiss her again. “I never stopped. I don’t think I can.”

“Me neither. I can’t stop either.” Her eyes were glistening again, tears pooling as she looked at him, peering into his soul, her pupils huge and dark. 

“Did we make the wrong decision?” He couldn’t see how, given how well she was doing at Yale, but he needed to hear her say it. 

“No.” She kissed him again, short and sweet. “We did the right thing for us as individuals. We wouldn’t have made it otherwise.”

“But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No. It doesn’t.” She pulled away, sliding her hand down his cheek, his jaw, his neck. “What if I said I wanted to spend the night with you?”

“I’d vehemently agree.” 

“Really? Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that. You can’t be surprised by that, Betty. We’re not even nineteen yet. I still have teenage hormones and you’re still the most beautiful girl in the entire fucking universe. Of course I want you. You’re all I ever want.” His last words were whispered, giving voice to something he’d thought about over and over again. He had no interest in anyone else, his heart belonged to Betty Cooper and he couldn’t imagine that anything would ever change that. 

“Where are you staying?” 

“Uh… I hadn’t really figured it out yet.”

She raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment on it. “Come to the house with me. Mom will be asleep by now. She was expecting me to get in late so she won’t be waiting up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Asking me that is only making me more sure.” She moved back around the booth and pulled two twenties from her purse, dropping them on the table for Pop. “Let’s get going, Juggie.”

  
  


It had been a long year since he’d last been in the Cooper house, but nothing was different. He took a deep inward breath as Betty closed her bedroom door behind them, looking around the room and taking in the familiar sights and scents. He felt her arms wrap around him from behind, the same way she used to do, and it felt so familiar that it was easy to pretend they were seventeen again, living under the same roof and climbing into the same bed every night. 

He turned to face her, cupping her face in his hands and pressing his lips to hers. It started gentle, soft, tender, but it wasn’t long before they were frantic and desperate for one another; teeth clashing and mouths open and tongues tangling. 

Their bodies were pressed together tightly as their hands roamed, touching and reacquainting and remembering. Betty’s hands crept under his shirt, her palms warm against his skin and he hissed when she grazed her fingernails against his stomach.

“You’re wearing… too many… clothes,” she said between kisses. 

“I could say the same to you,” he replied, and she answered him by stripping her sweater off and removing her bra. Her breasts free, she reached for the buttons of his shirt but he stopped her, bending to take a nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it. 

“You’re impossibly beautiful,” he told her reverently, his words muffled against her skin as he worshipped her chest. 

“Jug. Get naked. Now,” she demanded, pushing him away to remove her jeans, leaving her in a tiny pink thong that she didn’t give him a chance to admire before it too was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. “Naked,” she said again, “ _ now _ .”

He unbuttoned his shirt while she reached for his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down as he kicked off his shoes and threw his shirt aside. 

She fell back into his arms and her naked skin pressed against his felt sinfully delicious as they kissed messily, his hands all over the smooth expanse of her back, her arms looped around his neck and her hands tangled in his hair. 

“Fuck,” Jughead rasped, “I forgot how fucking good you taste.” He took her mouth again, his tongue licking into the warm cavern. Kissing her had always been a spiritual experience. From the first time he’d pressed his lips to hers, right in that very same room, he’d known that he’d never be the same again. All the way through their relationship, he could get lost in kissing her for hours, touching her soft skin and letting his tongue taste her mouth. 

She dropped to her knees, tearing her mouth away from his and closing it over the head of his cock, her hand wrapping around his base and twisting exquisitely. 

His eyes slammed closed. The avalanche of feelings was too much, her warm mouth and soft hand better even than she’d been in his dreams. It had been a long year with only his own right hand for company and her touch was going to driving him crazy.

She teased him, kitten licks and open mouthed kisses along his shaft, his balls rolled in her hand, the tantalising suction against his skin as he panted and groaned, one hand weaved into her hair, tugging lightly in the way she’d always loved. The push and pull between them had always been fiery; a power play, alternating domination and submission, testing one anothers limits, and exploring their own levels of leading and following. 

“Fuck, Betty, stop,” he gasped, pulling back as she released him with a filthy wet sound. He hauled her up, closing his mouth over hers.

She pushed against him, backing him toward the bed, the two of them tumbling onto the mattress, barely disconnecting their lips as they repositioned themselves; her hips pressed against his, his erection nestled between her thighs. He could feel the warm moisture of her core pressed against him and it was making him more desperate for her. She rolled her hips into him, grinding on him sensuously and his eyes rolled back in his head at the onslaught of sensation. 

She shifted then, taking him in her hand and guiding him into her, lowering herself onto him until he was buried to the hilt, both of them closing their eyes in ecstasy. 

“Shit, you feel so much better than I dreamed about,” she said softly, almost as if she didn’t realise she was speaking out loud, and his heart flipped over in his chest as he realised he wasn’t the only one who’d been reliving their connection in sleep. 

She rode him, slowly at first and then faster, their skin slapping together as she bounced in his lap. He sat up to kiss her, slipping deeper into her and swallowing her gasp as their mouths melded again. He relished in the feeling of her body pressed against his again. She still fit perfectly against him, like her body was made to be pressed against his for the rest of their lives.

He braced her against his body. One hand was cupping her ass, his fingers digging into the fleshy globe, his other hand on her hip, his thumb pressing into the crease of her thigh. She was tugging at his hair, holding his face to hers as her tongue plundered his mouth. 

She squealed when he flipped them over, pulling out of her and slithering down her body to lick between her thighs. 

“Fuck!” She exclaimed, throwing her head back against the pillows. He’d always been talented with his tongue, she’d been telling him so since their first time together. A year wasn’t long enough to forget what she liked; long slow licks up her slit, suction on her clit, tongue swirling around her labia and then rapid flicks of the tip of his tongue inside her opening. 

He concentrated on keeping up the rhythm, bringing her closer to the edge until she was thrashing beneath him, her body tensing and then releasing as her orgasm crashed into her, sweeping her up on the wave of pleasure he was inflicting, keeping her cresting until she collapsed, boneless underneath him. 

“Oh my god,” she breathed, pulling on his shoulders, silently inviting him back inside her, still throbbing and tender from her intense orgasm. As he slid into her she groaned low and throaty, and he could feel her walls still fluttering around him. 

He thrust into her, hard, and watched her breasts bounce underneath him. He couldn’t believe how incredible she felt wrapped around him, and it only got better when she wound her legs around his waist, tilting her pelvis to allow him to slip deeper. Her fingernails dug into his skin and the bite of pain sent him hurtling toward his climax. He pounded into her, pressing messy kisses to her face, neck and chest, his body spiralling out of control as his orgasm raced toward him like a freight train. 

Betty’s mouth was open, her breathing fast and heavy, breathy moans escaping her with every thrust. She slid a hand between their bodies, pinching her clit and trembling underneath him. “Come with me,” she begged and it was almost enough to send him off the cliff but he needed more.

He thrust harder, and as their eyes locked, she knew what he needed, digging her nails into him once more as she came, whispering his name reverently. 

What came next was one of the most blistering orgasms he’d ever experienced. His entire body shook as white hot pleasure overtook him and he muffled his guttural groans in her neck. Her sweaty skin tasted like heaven as he suckled at her, taking comfort from her as they came down from their mutual high. 

“Well, we’re still pretty damn good at that,” Betty whispered after a moment. 

“I’ll say.” Jughead pulled out of her, rolling to the side and collapsing onto his back. Betty reached out for some tissues, handing him a wad to clean himself up as she did the same, swiping at the mess of their fluids between her legs. 

They lay side by side, catching their breath and cooling down and Jughead’s mind began to whirl. What the hell was he doing? He knew they weren’t getting back together, he knew she was going to go back to Yale and continue her life in New Haven, and he was going to have to go and do the same in Iowa.

“Jug?”

“Yeah?”

“Was this a mistake?”

He rolled onto this side and found her doing the same, her eyes shining with tears in the dim moonlight coming through the open blinds. He shuffled toward her, kissing her gently, lips pressed together, no tongue, just comfort and sweetness and love. 

“No, Betts. It wasn’t a mistake. It was amazing. It was… it was quite literally coming home.”

She chuckled wetly, her eyes still full of tears, and he reached out to stop the progress of the one that had escaped and was travelling down her cheek, capturing it with his thumb. 

“I’m always going to love you, Betty. And even if all we have is this, every once in a while, I’ll take it, if it means I still have you in my life.”

Betty gasped. “Jug, you’re a genius.”

“Thank you?” he replied, confused.

“We  _ can  _ have this. Every once in a while.” She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest and he pushed down the little part of him that was disappointed she was hiding her body from him. “What if - and this may be crazy - what if we meet up, every year on this day, and we spend the night together. We go about our lives throughout the school year, and then we come back here every year and just… be together.”

He ached to say yes. He wanted to dive straight into this, to keep her in any way he could, but he knew how messy it could get. How easily they could break one another again. But… he turned the idea over in his mind. It wasn’t a terrible plan. He’d already resigned himself to a life of loving her and only seeing her once a year, if he was lucky. So why not love her and make love to her once a year. She could stop it any time she wanted to. He was always going to be hopelessly in love with her, he was sure of that. It might seem like a strange thing to be sure of at nineteen, but he knew, without a doubt, that he’d always want her. But if she changed her mind, he would let her go. 

“Yes,” he said softly, “yes, I want that. But only if you’re absolutely sure you do too.”

“Jughead, you are the love of my life. I will always want you. And just because we can’t be together right now doesn’t mean—”

“Please don’t say it,” he interrupted. “We don’t know what’s going to happen. And that’s okay for now. But I can’t bear to hold on to a maybe in case it doesn’t come true. So for now, let’s plan on next year. We meet at Pops and we catch up and we come back here and spend the night together.”

“Okay,” Betty agreed. She reached for him, sealing their agreement with a soft kiss that quickly turned passionate. “You think you can go again?”

“Give me a few minutes, and keep doing  _ that _ ” - she sucked on his earlobe again - “and yes, definitely.”

  
  
  


The next morning, Betty watched him get ready to leave, tucked cozily under the covers, her hair mussed and her cheeks still pink from their early morning romp. They’d hardly slept, making love and just plain old fucking, talking in whispers in between as they waited to recover to begin their next round. They’d finally talked about her kiss with Archie and they’d both cried as she told him how stupid she felt and how much it had only cemented her love for  _ him _ , Archie having been only a momentary lapse in judgement after some of the craziest shit they'd all been through. Jughead had kissed her and held her and told her that he forgave her long ago, that he didn’t doubt her feelings. 

They’d made love slowly then, his thumb on her clit bringing her to the edge as he came inside her, whispering his love for her again. After a night in bed with her he felt drunk on her and knew that the night would carry him through until he could be with her again. 

He glanced at the clock; barely seven in the morning but their night was over, too soon for either of their liking. He was going to have to sneak out quietly if he wanted to avoid waking Alice and having her ask awkward questions. 

“So…” he said, when he’d finished getting dressed, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels, the question simmering on the tip of his tongue. 

“Next year?” She asked with a smile, taking the words right out of his mouth. 

“Next year,” he agreed, bending down to kiss her one more time before he had to go. “See you next year, Betty Cooper.”


	2. Year Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jesus, Jug,” she said in a strangled tone, watching his tongue wet his lips. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”
> 
> “Then we’d better get out of here.” He yanked out his wallet, throwing some cash onto the table before standing and walking away from her. She scrambled to follow, her legs feeling like jelly after over an hour of visual and auditory foreplay. 
> 
> He grabbed her arm when she walked through the door, dragging her around the back, past the dumpsters and pressing her against the back wall of the diner. He crushed his lips to hers with a ferocity that told her he was just as worked up as she was, only he’d been hiding it better. In a clashing mess of tongues and teeth and hot breath mingling in the space between them, he whispered to her how beautiful she was and how he’d been craving her from the second she’d sat opposite him in the booth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the amazing comments and feedback on the last chapter! And special thanks to notinwonderlandanym0re for her help and encouragement on this one!
> 
> As you have probably figured out, I've decided to make this a series, addressing every year between the end of 5.03 and their meeting back at Pops in 5.04.... hoping to flesh out what we know with some of my own fiction to play with the story!

Betty was nervous. She’d been nervous all week and even though she’d been distracted by finals and packing up her dorm room, she couldn’t escape the bubbling tension and butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach. 

It had taken her almost five months to stop reaching for her phone every day, wanting to text him, call him, just talk to him, but that wasn’t their arrangement. And now that they were only a day away from their meeting at Pops, her fingers were itching to text him, to make sure he showed up. 

She was determined not to be late this time. She’d almost missed him last year, finding him in the car park about to get into his truck by the time she’d finally arrived. She wasn’t making the same mistake this year. 

She arrived at Pops at 6pm, sitting in their usual booth after greeting Pop Tate with a hug and a grin, catching up with him briefly over her first cup of coffee. She could feel her leg bouncing anxiously as she waited for Jughead, cursing the fact that they hadn’t arranged a specific time. He could be another four hours. Or, god forbid, he might not be coming. 

At 7pm, she went to the bathroom, leaving her purse in the booth. She knew Pop would keep an eye on it. In the empty bathroom, she gave herself a pep talk in the mirror. 

“He’s going to show up. You’re going to have another night of the best sex of your life and then you’re going to go back to your life as normal. He  _ is  _ going to show up.” She stared fiercely at herself, pleased with the way she’d done her makeup; subtle but noticeable, bringing out her eyes and her lips, always Jughead’s favourite parts of her face. Despite her pep talk to herself, she was going to be utterly devastated if he didn’t show up. She wasn’t sure she’d survive the shame and rejection of it. 

She needn’t have worried. 

He was in the booth when she got back, facing away from her, his hair glossy even under the dim lighting inside the diner. 

“Hi,” she breathed happily as she slid into the booth opposite him. 

The smile on his face was breathtaking. “Hi back,” he replied. “How was your year?”

She laughed, his words releasing the last threads of tension that had been tightening in her shoulders and she relaxed into the vinyl seat of the booth. “It was pretty good. How was yours?”

“Uneventful,” he shrugged. “I don’t know if you’ve ever heard this, but the Midwest is incredibly dull.”

“I have heard something to that effect, I believe. I’m surprised you haven’t livened it up with your motorcycle and your leather jacket and your gang connections.”

He barked out a laugh, his eyes crinkling around the edges in that way they’d always done and she felt her abdomen clench, her body already feeling the effects of being in his presence again.

“I’m not the only one with a leather jacket,” he said softly. “How are New Haven coping with  _ your  _ gang connections?”

“My serpent jacket is still in my closet at my mom’s,” she said hesitantly. “It didn’t feel right to take it out of Riverdale.” She hoped he wasn’t offended by that fact, hoped he didn’t think it meant she didn’t want it anymore. 

“That’s a shame,” he replied, “you always looked so sexy in it.”

Her breath caught and she looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes dark with lust and desire and something else that she couldn’t quite place. The air suddenly felt heavy and all she could think about was finding the nearest dark corner or flat surface so he could press her against it and she could tangle her tongue around his. 

“You want to get out of here?” she asked, surprised at how steady her voice sounded.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Jughead said with a wicked grin, “you can’t bring me to Pops and expect me not to eat.”

.

The sexual tension was unbearable during their meal. They caught up, talking and laughing like they had the previous year, but with the added expectation of sex hanging over them, Betty was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on the food and the conversation and anything that wasn’t the sinfully delicious way Jughead’s tongue swirled around his spoon as he finished his brownie sundae, or the so-frequent-they-had-to-be-deliberate innuendos he kept innocently dropping, of the way his legs had stretched out under the table, trapping both of hers between them. 

“You’re toying with me,” she said in a low voice after he’d very suggestively sucked his index and middle fingers into his mouth under the pretence of getting chocolate sauce off them.

“Yes, I am,” he said, smiling smugly, “are you enjoying it?”

“Jesus, Jug,” she said in a strangled tone, watching his tongue wet his lips. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“Then we’d better get out of here.” He yanked out his wallet, throwing some cash onto the table before standing and walking away from her. She scrambled to follow, her legs feeling like jelly after over an hour of visual and auditory foreplay. 

He grabbed her arm when she walked through the door, dragging her around the back, past the dumpsters and pressing her against the back wall of the diner. He crushed his lips to hers with a ferocity that told her he was just as worked up as she was, only he’d been hiding it better. In a clashing mess of tongues and teeth and hot breath mingling in the space between them, he whispered to her how beautiful she was and how he’d been craving her from the second she’d sat opposite him in the booth. 

“I need you,” she whispered. “Jug…” his name left her mouth on a moan as he trailed kisses down her neck and she rolled her hips against his, feeling him hard through his jeans.

“Someone’s eager tonight,” he said, his tone teasing and smug.

“It’s been a long year, Juggie.”

He stopped his movements, leaning back to give her a probing look. He was silent for a moment, and she was just about to ask him what he was thinking about when he spoke.

“You aren’t - I mean, you haven’t…”

“No,” she replied softly. “I haven’t.” She didn’t want to go into detail. She didn’t want to tell him that she’d only been on two dates since she’d started at Yale and she’d spent both of them making comparisons that quite frankly she had no right to be making. “Have you?”

“No,” he said. She was relieved, more relieved than she should have been, and she threw herself at him, nipping at his bottom lip as they kissed again. 

“I have a room at the five seasons,” he breathed in her ear. “Let me take you there.”

“Please,” she whimpered.

“C’mon, I’ll drive.”

.

She collapsed next to him, breathless and boneless and sated. For the moment.

“I have missed that,” he said, still catching his breath and she tried not to stiffen visibly. His words had shot through her, straight to the fissure in her heart that had been expanding over the last two years. 

“How’s school?” She asked him, needing to get away from dangerous subjects. “Was this year better?”

“It was.” He turned on his side to face her and she followed suit. “I took your advice, picked up some more classes. I’m still a creative writing major, but I’m getting a minor in education now. It opened up more class options and it’ll give me something to fall back on… just in case.”

“That’s great news, Jug. You won’t need a fallback though. You’ve got the most incredible future ahead of you.” Her voice had softened and suddenly she’d made things even more intimate then they’d been when he was inside her.

He looked floored, the intimacy hitting him hard too and they both just stared at each other for a long time. She wondered again whether their arrangement was a mistake. She was still so tied up in him and she wasn’t sure that meeting like this once a year was healthy. But like an addict, she couldn’t stop. She’d craved him all year, craved this intimacy and closeness but now that she had it, she was terrified. 

Jughead broke the tension first. 

He reached out, tweaking her nipple and sending a jolt through her body as she arched toward his hand involuntarily. 

“So responsive,” he mumbled and his words had her moaning softly and squeezing her thighs together. There was an undertone of domination in his voice and suddenly she wished they were back in their shared bedroom on Elm street with the box of toys they’d always kept stashed under the bed. Sadly, that box was now hidden in the attic, buried deep inside another box full of old clothes. The last thing she’d wanted was for her mother to find it, but she couldn’t bear to take it to college with her either, unable to imagine his any of them with someone else.

“I know that look,” he said, a rasp in his voice, “I remember that look.” His voice got lower as he slipped into his dominant persona and she felt a shiver building at the base of her spine, heat pooling between her legs. “Do you want to play tonight?” he growled.

“Fuck, yes,” she replied on a moan, arching into his hand again. “I’ll be good for you.”

“Fuck yes you will.” He squeezed her breast roughly and then slapped it lightly, drawing another moan from her. “Such a good girl.”

She preens at the praise and a wide grin takes over his face. He knows how much she loves to be praised, knows that the perfectionist her mother had made her into got off on being told how good she was. 

“Tell me what you want, Betty. Tell me what you need.”

“You,” she breathed, “I need you.”

“Specifics,” he said, slapping her breast again and then pinching her nipple. 

“I want you to feed me your cock. I want you to take control.”

“I’ll need a few more minutes before I’m quite ready for that,” he said with a teasing grin. “But if you want me to take control, then let me control that pretty pussy.”

He guided her to straddle his face, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking on it, hard. She fisted a hand in his hair, biting her lip to hold in the scream that threatened to spill from her throat. Before she could even begin to think about what she was doing, she was riding his face with abandon, his tongue driving her wild, his fingertips pressing hard into her hips as he controlled her movements. She hoped he’d leave bruises. She wanted him to mark her. 

She called out his name with her release and he kept his tongue working at her, prolonging her climax and sending her headlong into a second one, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her long locks grazing the skin of his abdomen and sending shockwaves through him. 

He was impossibly hard by the time she shimmied down his body, grinding her wet folds against him, letting the head of his cock bump against her over-sensitive clit. 

“You still want to swallow this cock?” 

“Yes, god,  _ yes _ .” She climbed off him, kneeling on the floor, ready to take him. “Please, Jug,” she begged, “ _ please _ . Let me taste it.”

He got to his feet, approaching her greedy mouth and guiding his cock into it. She licked and sucked at his length and he felt himself hit the back of her throat, his eyes rolling back in his head with the sensation. 

“You take my cock so well,” he growled sensuously. “Your pretty little mouth looks so good wrapped around me.” 

He guided her faster, edging himself closer to orgasm. When he was almost there, he used his grip on her hair to pull her off his dick, pulling her up to shove his tongue into her mouth in a filthy delicious kiss. 

“Hands and knees,” he instructed, pushing her back onto the bed, her perfect ass in the air, her wet folds on display between her legs. He delivered a light spank to the back of her upper thigh before thrusting into her, holding her hips tightly as she moaned obscenely. 

He fucked her hard, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing in the room. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Betty cried out, the sensations running through her body sending her quivering and shaking on the edge of an orgasm. He angled his hips down, hitting her g-spot with every thrust and she let out a guttural groan as her orgasm slammed into her and her arms gave out. Her face landed on the mattress, her scream of his name muffled in the sheets. Jughead tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her back against him as he continued to pound into her. 

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he praised her, stroking his hand along the length of her spine gently; a stark juxtaposition to the rough movement of his thrusts. “You’re so beautiful. My beautiful good girl.”

Betty was moaning and writhing at his words, a hand pressed between her breast and the mattress as she toyed with her nipple, her orgasm still rippling through her like a never ending wave. 

“Are you going to come again for me, pretty girl?”

“I don’t know if I can,” Betty said, practically sobbing with the effort of it. She was still twitching with aftershocks, her walls clamping down around him with every other thrust. 

“Yes you can. You want to be good for me, you want to come for me again.” His rasping voice vibrated through her as he pulled her upright, gripping her breasts and pressing his chest to her back. “Let me feel it, Betty,” he breathed, dragging his teeth along the curve of her ear and nipping at the lobe. 

“Come with me,” she begged him, panting heavily with the exertion of the pleasure he was inflicting. 

“Oh, I’m definitely coming with you,” he replied heavily. He pinched her clit hard between two fingers, rubbing fast circles as he snapped his hips harder, pushing her to the edge and straight over it, her body tensing and then exploding around him, clamping down on him and milking him as he spilled into her, the pair of them collapsing together onto the mattress, their sweaty skin sticking together as they fought to catch their breath. 

“Fucking hell,” Betty panted. “That was… spectacular.”

“Worth the wait?”

“Oh yeah.” She couldn’t imagine anyone else would ever know her body the way Jughead did, know exactly what to say and where to touch and how to read her. She began to get introspective as she thought about it; the idea that one day their arrangement could end was painful to imagine. She couldn’t see a scenario where she’d want to be with anyone but him. 

“I need some sleep to recover from that,” Jughead said quietly. 

Betty smiled, praying he’d never change. “Get some sleep, Juggie. You’ll need your energy for what I have planned for you next.”

  
.

He dropped her off at her car - still in Pop’s parking lot - the next morning, aching between her thighs but more satisfied than she’d ever been. They’d certainly made up for lost time. 

It was still early, there were no other cars in Pop’s lot, and the diner looked empty.

“Do you want to… get some breakfast?” She asked him, and he looked at her, his eyes boring into her, seeing all the way into her soul. It was familiar, but it was also uncomfortable. She didn’t want him seeing what she was thinking and feeling. 

“I don’t know if we should,” he replied, and then grimaced in an unspoken apology. 

“No, you’re right. Probably not a great idea.” A silence fell as she looked out the window at her car. “I should go.”

“Next year?” He asked.

“Next year,” she agreed. “See you then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this lived up to the first chapter - they got a little dirtier in this one! Eeek. I can't help my dirty Bughead headcanons!


	3. Year Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d always loved her voice, loved hearing her sing, but the lyrics combined with her soft voice and her writhing body had him hardening in his jeans. 
> 
> When he shifted in his seat, attempting to relieve the pressure in his pants, she grinned wickedly and lifted her sweater over her head, exposing a white lace bra that was somehow more sinful than if she’d been wearing nothing at all. 
> 
> “Fuck, Betts,” he groaned, barely more than a low rasp and she smirked, continuing her movements, dancing purely for his own enjoyment and hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you THANK YOU to my wonderful notinwonderlandanym0re for not only being my beta for this chapter but also for creating the amazing cover art!!

Jughead was desperate for her. He thought he might lose his mind if he couldn’t have her right then and there. They were forty minutes into their evening and all he could think about was getting her naked and fucking her quivering cunt into oblivion. She’d done nothing intentionally suggestive but he was so turned on by her that he could barely even think straight. How in the hell did he survive an entire year without her squirming and sweating and shaking underneath his body? His mind felt like mush. And  _ yet…  _

“I have an idea.” Jughead smirked at her across the table, giving up on trying to respectfully keep his eyes off her cleavage. He drank her in, her breasts moving tantalisingly under her deep v-necked sweater as she breathed. Betty knew what he was doing, and as he gazed hungrily at her, she traced a manicured finger along the neckline of the cobalt blue fabric.

He wanted to press kisses all over the exposed skin, sucking marks along her collarbone, biting at the swell of her breasts.

“And what idea is that?” she asked, jolting him out of his reverie. 

“I think we should go downstairs and see if there’s any booze left over, hidden away now that the speakeasy is closed.” He gave her a wicked smile and dragged his foot against her leg before sitting back against the cushion of the booth.

She grinned back at him and it was practically blinding, lighting up the entire diner. 

“You’ve always been a genius, Jughead Jones.” She popped her last fry into her mouth, chewing delicately, one eyebrow raised in a tease as she watched him watch her. “Shall we?”

Jughead nodded, the smile still on his face. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”

They waited for Pop to disappear into the kitchen before making a break for the old phone booth, slipping quickly inside and down the darkened staircase to what used to be  _ Le Bonne Nuit.  _

  
Betty fumbled for something in the dark and almost tripped over her own feet. 

“I have no idea where the light switches are,” Betty giggled, and he pulled her toward him, capturing her lips, tasting her, finally, relishing in feeling her body pressed against his again. 

“Who cares,” he growled, “I’ll fuck you in the pitch black.”

“No,” she giggled, “let me find the lights.”

They stumbled around in the dark, swiping at the walls until Jughead’s palm passed across a panel of switches. “Got them!” he crowed triumphantly, and seconds later the room was bathed in soft light.

It was like going back in time. 

The speakeasy had been closed down when Veronica left and hadn’t been touched since. Chairs still sat around tables, and miraculously, the bar was still fully stocked. 

“Jackpot,” Betty breathed, slipping behind the bar and browsing the shelves, her fingers running across the dusty bottles before remembering that the speakeasy had lost its liquor license thanks to Hiram Lodge. She groaned aloud and voiced it to Jughead who rolled his eyes. 

“Veronica would have kept  _ something _ ,” he insisted and Betty thought for a moment before remembering something Veronica had once told her. 

_ “I prefer to hide things in plain sight, dear Betty.” _

She scrutinised the bottles more carefully, searching, and sure enough, she came across one with a tiny L scribbled on its neck. She pulled the cap off, sniffing at it. “Maple rum,” she said with a grin, turning back to Jughead. “Can I interest you in some Red Raven Rum, sir?” She asked teasingly. 

Jughead stepped closer. “There are plenty of things you can interest me in if you keep calling me sir,” he growled and Betty giggled again, high on his presence, drunk on the sight of him. 

She swigged directly from the bottle, wincing at the slight burn of the rum and then licking her lips at the maple after-taste. 

They passed the bottle back and forth across the bar until they were booth loose lipped and tingling with anticipation and the buzz of the alcohol. 

“I think this is the first time I’ve been properly drunk,” Jughead said as he watched Betty giggle and swallow another mouthful of rum. “And it’s the first time I’ve seen you drunk too. You can’t stop giggling.”

“I went out for drinks for my birthday to a cocktail bar with a few girls from school… it didn’t feel like this,” she breathed, touching her cheeks which were flushed with heat from the booze. 

“I had a few beers here and there but I never really wanted to… well, you know, because of my dad…” he trailed off and her eyes grew serious. She nodded thoughtfully. 

“Are you still worried about it?” 

“It’s hard to be worried about anything right now,” he said, eyeing her flushed face and happy smile. “But yeah, I’m worried about turning out like him. He’s not doing so well in Toledo. I think my mom brings out the worst in him.”

“I’m sorry, Jug.” Betty said as she reached out and touched his arm, squeezing lightly as she passed the bottle to him again. “So you’re not going to keggers every weekend then?” She pressed with a twinkle in her eye.

He gave her an affectionate eye roll, but his face was serious when he replied, “No. I don’t really… I don’t really know anyone who would invite me to those types of things even if I wanted to go, which I don’t.” His words were matter-of-fact but there was pain in his eyes, pain and shame.

“You don’t… your friends aren’t…” she trailed off as she realised what he was saying. He’d never been one for large groups of friends, always the one to announce, “I’m weird, I’m a weirdo”. He didn’t fit in and he didn’t want to fit in. That was just who he was, who he’d always been. Her heart ached for him, for the three years of loneliness he’d endured while she was blissfully unaware; making friends and going to cocktail bars and trying not to think about him. 

“I don’t really have any friends. A few acquaintances I talk to in class but…” 

Even though she’d already figured it out, hearing him say it aloud made her want to weep. And what came next was even worse.

“... it’s easier not to get hurt if you don’t get close to anyone.”

“Juggie… oh, god.” Her giggles were long gone, replaced by a sense of melancholy she hadn’t felt since the summer after their high school graduation. “I did this,” she whispered, “this is my fault.”

“No,” he said, swigging from the bottle of rum again and then passing it back to her. “Well… not entirely.”

Archie’s name wasn’t said but it hung in their air between them and Betty winced as the gulp of rum she swallowed burned at her throat. She wanted to talk more about it, but she also wanted to change the subject. It felt too hard, too painful for them to talk about after sharing the bottle of rum, the alcohol burning in their veins and loosening their tongues, lowering inhibitions they didn’t even know they had. 

Her gaze fell on the stage, a lone black chair in the center, and before she even really knew what she was doing, she was by the chair, and ‘ _ Pretty Please’ _ by Dua Lipa was playing from her phone as she swayed her hips to the beat. 

_ Somewhere in the middle, I _

_ Think I lied a little, I _

_ I said if we took it there, I wasn't gonna change _

_ But that went out the window, yeah _   
  


Jughead watched her, riveted by her gyrations, by the way her blonde waves swished behind her, by her body moving sensuously to the quiet music. Betty swung a leg over the seat of the chair, grabbing the back of it with her hands as she arched her back and looked at him with her head tilted back. 

_ I know that I seem a little stressed out _

_ But you're here now, and you're turning me on _

_ I wanna feel a different kinda tension _

_ Yeah, you guessed it, the kind that's fun _

_ Hate it when you leave me unattended _

_ 'Cause I miss ya, and I need your love _

_ When my mind is runnin' wild _

_ Could you help me slow it down? _   
  
Betty seemed to have almost forgotten about his presence, swaying and moving and dancing, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was making the most beautiful shapes with her body and Jughead’s fingers itched with the need to caress her skin. 

After a few moments when Lana Del Ray’s  _ ‘Cola’ _ began to play, she turned to him and started to sing softly. 

_ My pussy tastes like Pepsi cola _

_ My eyes are wide like cherry pies _

_ I got sweet taste for men who are older _

_ It's always been so, it's no surprise _

He’d always loved her voice, loved hearing her sing, but the lyrics combined with her soft voice and her writhing body had him hardening in his jeans. 

When he shifted in his seat, attempting to relieve the pressure in his pants, she grinned wickedly and lifted her sweater over her head, exposing a white lace bra that was somehow more sinful than if she’d been wearing nothing at all. 

“Fuck, Betts,” he groaned, barely more than a low rasp and she smirked, continuing her movements, dancing purely for his own enjoyment and hers. 

_ Ah, he's in the sky with diamonds _

_ And he's making me crazy (I come alive, alive) _

_ All he wants to do is party with his pretty baby _

“Pretty baby  _ indeed _ ,” he growled as she unclasped her bra and flung it aside with a devilish grin. Her skin shone under the lights, her dusky nipples practically begging for his mouth and he groaned loudly as she ran her hands over her body. 

She was still dressed in her jeans and boots, completely topless and there was something so erotic about that image that he couldn’t help palming himself through his pants, trying to gain some small amount of friction, relieve some small amount of the pressure building low in his abdomen. 

Betty turned around and bent over, giving him a perfect view of her taut ass while she removed her boots and socks, then shimmying sexily out of her jeans. 

“How the hell can you make taking off  _ jeans  _ so hot?” Jughead panted, palming himself again. 

She stalked toward him then, her hips swaying and her breasts bouncing but she stopped just out of his reach, toying with her nipples, staring into eyes. He could see that her pupils were blown wide with lust and he smirked at the idea she was just as affected by him as he was by her. 

He reached for her, his needy hands almost touching her, his fingers grabbing at the air by her waist. She giggled and stepped toward him, letting him touch her, coming to straddle his lap, pressing their groins together as she looped her arms around his neck.

“Hi,” she breathed, her lips brushing his with the merest of touches. 

“Hi,” he responded before capturing her mouth, holding her to him as he kissed her furiously. She ground against him, wiggling purposefully in his lap and drawing out a low groan that was muffled by his lips on hers. 

Betty’s hands went to his shirt, fingers deftly making work of the buttons until she was able to slide her hands over the bare planes of his chest, flicking lightly at his nipples and grazing her fingertips over his abdominals. 

Jughead yanked her closer, shifting his hips up into hers, pressing his hardness against her core, pulling a moan from her lips. 

“Uh uh,” she said, shifting so that she was straddling his thigh, rolling her hips against his leg and biting her lip at the friction on her clit. As she rode his thigh she reached for his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping, reaching in to pull out his erection.

“Betty - ”He hissed as her hand wrapped around him, his hand landing on her lower back and guiding her as she slid along his leg, soaking his pants with her arousal. She stroked his cock gently, barely teasing, scraping her nails along the underside and making him groan.

“Fuck,” Jughead growled, growing impatient. “I need you.”

“Mm-mm,” Betty hummed as she shook her head, grinding harder on him, her breath hitching as pleasure coursed through her. “ _ God _ , I could come like this,” she managed to say, and his hips bucked of their own accord, his cock twitching in her hand.    
  
She moved faster and he began to push his leg against her centre in time with her thrusts. Her moans got louder, her breaths shorter and Jughead’s groan tore through his throat sharper than the rum had; watching her work herself closer to orgasm had always been one of the hottest parts of their physical relationship. He loved letting her use his body for her pleasure.

He drew her forward, taking her mouth and pushing his tongue inside, tasting her and letting her taste him. “Come for me,” he whispered, “let me see it.”    
  
He gripped her hips hard and shoved his thigh against her, her hips jerking as she whimpered, chasing her orgasm. Jughead moved his mouth to her neck and sucked at her pulse point, flicking his tongue against her skin and her orgasm exploded within her and she came with a cry of his name from her swollen lips. 

When she’d ridden out her high, Betty stood on shaky legs so Jughead could get undressed, dropping back into the chair and pulling her onto him without preamble. They groaned simultaneously as she slid down on him, taking him in and bracing herself against his shoulders.

“You’re so big,” she murmured, “you fill me perfectly.”

Heat spread through him at her words. He knew it was basest and trite, but something about hearing her say it gave him a thrill. His hips jerked under her and she smirked. 

“You like that?” She tugged on his hair a little. “How can I still be learning new things about you? Like the fact that maybe you’ve got a little praise kink too…” She purred and slotted her mouth across his, nipping at his bottom lip as she began to ride him. 

“No one's praise kink is bigger than yours,” he said, growling as she yanked on his hair again.

“No? So you don’t want me to tell you how fucking good you look? How beautifully you fuck me? How much I love your cock…  _ ugh _ ,” she grunted as his hand landed with a sharp crack on her ass. 

“Two can play at that game, Cooper.”

She rolled her hips against him with a grin, rubbing her clit against the base of his cock, panting as her over-stimulated flesh got the friction she was craving. Jughead dipped his head to suck at her breasts, biting at the soft flesh, relishing in the breathy moan he drew from her. 

He was so turned on by her and was fighting to hold back an orgasm that was threatening to come too soon, wanting her to come again, or at the very least, with him. He moved a hand to her clit, pressing his thumb against it as his fingers splayed across her hip, rubbing quick circles. 

Her head tipped back and she pushed her breasts closer to his face, practically smothering him in her chest as she rocked and bounced in his lap. He could feel her internal walls fluttering and doubled his speed on her clit, slamming his hips up into her until she cried out her orgasm. 

After a few more erratic thrusts, he spilled into her. As their combined juices began dripping down his cock from inside her, he held her close, their sweaty bodies collapsing into one another. 

“I can’t believe we just fucked in here,” Betty giggled a moment later. 

“I’d do it again, too.” Jughead murmured, pressing a kiss to the hair by her temple.

“Is that a promise?” She asked as ran her hand down his chest. 

“Oh, definitely.” Jughead responded and with that his lips found hers again.

…..

Betty was gone when he woke up late the next morning. After another round at Le Bonne Nuit, they’d migrated to his room at the Five Seasons, where he’d energetically eaten her out for hours, giving her climax after climax until she collapsed boneless and sated and let him fuck her senseless into the mattress. 

He frowned when he realised she had left and wasn’t simply in the bathroom, but as memories of the previous night swam to the forefront of his mind, he couldn’t help smiling, and then cursing the twitch in his already half-hard cock. The room smelled of their sex and her and it was a heady combination. 

Jughead finally sat up, staring at the carnage of the room; the bed covers halfway on the floor, his clothes strewn about, empty water glasses and champagne glasses side by side on the nightstand.

She’d left a note on the pillow next to him and he snatched it up, pissed that she hadn’t said a proper goodbye. 

_ I’m sorry, Jug, I didn’t want to wake you. Last night was better than ever. See you next year. B. _

“See you next year, Betty,” he murmured, gripping the note in his hand and wishing the year away already.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the great comments on the last chapter, please do leave a comment or kudos if you liked this one! Next up, Year Four - Betty has a conundrum to deal with!


	4. Year Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You look great.” Jughead’s voice was low and it hit all the best places inside her. She squeezed her thighs together, regretting wearing a dress because had only her flimsy lace panties to soak up her arousal and could feel dampness on her thighs already. She’d been watching him as they ate their dinner, admiring the way he sucked the remnants of ketchup off his fingers, the way his tongue darted out to lick his lips, the way his eyes closed in ecstasy at the first bite of one of Pop’s cheeseburgers. 
> 
> “So do you,” she returned flirtatiously, running her foot up his leg. 
> 
> He smirked at her, his hand reaching between his legs to grab her foot, stroking circles on the sensitive skin at her ankle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Folks!
> 
> Another instalment and another moment in the lives of these two sexy idiots... AND my first completed square on my Riverdale Bingo Card - Car Sex.
> 
> Thank you endlessly to Georgie for her beta work and for being a fabulous human at all times.

_ *** _

_ “Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ ,” Betty swore, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet for the second morning in a row.  _

_ She was three days late and now she was throwing up. This wasn’t good. What the hell was she going to do?  _

_ She still had his number, of course she did, but she hadn’t used it in years. How was she supposed to call him and tell him this? “Hey Jug, remember a month ago when we fucked each other senseless for a night, well I think you’ve left me a souvenir…” Absolutely not.  _

_ “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Betty,” she whispered to herself. “You don’t know anything yet.”  _

_ With some effort, she dragged herself up off the floor of the bathroom and climbed into the shower.  _

_ After throwing up again, she took a long walk to the drugstore on the other side of campus, not wanting anyone to see her. She bought the test and smuggled it back to her room buried deep in her bag, then locked herself in the bathroom with it.  _

_ She spent the entire three minute wait pacing the tiny bathroom in minuscule circles, muttering to herself, working herself into a state of high anxiety.  _

_ When the timer went off and she saw the single line on the test, she burst into relieved sobs.  _

_ “Thank god. Oh, thank god,” she breathed, curling up on the floor and sobbing into her knees. _

_ She never did find out why she’d been throwing up, but her period arrived the next day and she made an appointment to discuss birth control with the campus doctor.  _

***

She didn’t see a need to tell Jughead about the scare. She didn’t tell him about that day five weeks after their last meeting. She didn’t tell him about the anxiety it had caused her. She didn’t tell him she’d changed her method of birth control as a result, that now she had an IUD and there weren’t going to be any more pregnancy scares. He didn’t need to know about something that was nothing.

She also didn’t tell him about the guy - amusingly, named Guy - she dated for four months in the winter. He was the first person she’d slept with other than Jughead, and after she’d broken up with him for being too clingy, she’d had a handful of very short-lived relationships, if they could even be called that. 

The secrets burned like coal in her chest and she was desperate to feel something else. All she could think about, now that she was face to face with him, was that none of them had brought her the levels of pleasure that he had. None of them made her insides turn to mush the way he did. None of them made her ache with a longing she couldn’t bear to think about throughout the year while they were apart. 

She’d just graduated from Yale with honors and was starting work as a Crime Scene Investigator in two weeks - part of her push toward getting into the FBI academy the minute she turned 23. She was succeeding in life, but she couldn’t let go of her high school boyfriend. Was that pathetic? She didn’t know. 

But sitting across from him in their favourite booth, seeing him smile disarmingly at her and make suggestive comments, she couldn’t find it in her to worry about whether she was pathetic or not. The way he looked at her had always given her butterflies and nothing had changed there; her body was aflame just from his proximity. 

“You look great.” Jughead’s voice was low and it hit all the best places inside her. She squeezed her thighs together, regretting wearing a dress because had only her flimsy lace panties to soak up her arousal and could feel dampness on her thighs already. She’d been watching him as they ate their dinner, admiring the way he sucked the remnants of ketchup off his fingers, the way his tongue darted out to lick his lips, the way his eyes closed in ecstasy at the first bite of one of Pop’s cheeseburgers. 

“So do you,” she returned flirtatiously, running her foot up his leg. 

He smirked at her, his hand reaching between his legs to grab her foot, stroking circles on the sensitive skin at her ankle. 

“Stop teasing.” His grin widened as she wrenched her foot from his grasp. She’d felt him half hard in his jeans already, and it was a heady sense of power, knowing she did that to him. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he couldn’t look away from the low neck of her sundress, or that his eyes darkened with lust every time she licked her lips. 

“Then let's get out of here.”

They barely made it a mile down the road before Betty lost it, too keyed up and too turned on by the mere presence of Jughead’s hand on her thigh. “Fuck it,” she hissed, pulling into a grove of trees by the highway, too desperate for him to wait any longer. “I want you.  _ Now _ .” She threw open her door, climbing into the backseat and waiting impatiently for Jughead to catch up to her train of thought. “C’mon, Jug.”

It wasn’t long before she was laid across the backseat, Jughead atop her, one of his legs braced in the footwell, his knee between her spread legs as he kissed her breathless, his tongue probing her mouth deliciously. 

“We’re getting - ah,  _ yes _ \- worse at this,” Betty moaned as Jughead trailed kisses down her neck, one of his hands sliding smoothly along her leg, his fingers grazing at the juncture of her hip and thigh.

“Worse?” Jughead questioned, sucking at her pulse point and grazing his teeth over her jugular. It sent a shiver through her and she arched into him, pressing her body against every inch of him. 

“At keeping our -  _ fuck _ \- hands off each other - god  _ yes _ …” she trailed off as he slid his hand to her centre, the pads of his fingers coming into contact with the wet lace covering her. She knew she was soaking, desperate for him. 

“You’re so wet,” he groaned.

“You have  _ no  _ idea how much I want you.”

“Oh, I think I do.” He grinned wolfishly and teased her entrance, her legs widening for his touch. He removed his hand from her panties, hooking his fingers into the sides of the lace and sliding the garment smoothly down her legs. She wiggled impatiently as he tossed it aside, and groaned loudly when he pushed two fingers into her without preamble. 

“Fuck, Jug, give a girl a warning,” she quipped, but her words turned into a throaty moan as he crooked his fingers against her g-spot and stroked the spongy tissue, multitasking with his thumb pressed against her clit. “Jesus,” she muttered, her eyes fluttering closed with the onslaught of sensation. 

He mouthed at her hip bone, his other hand reaching for her breast, still encased in both bra and sundress due to their frantic pairing. Betty scrambled to pull her dress over her head, knocking her hand against the window and hissing  _ “ouch”  _ before reaching underneath her to unclasp her bra and throwing it aside. 

“Can you scoot back a little?” Jughead requested, nipping at her thigh, “I’m getting a cramp.”

Betty burst into giggles as she slid backward, giving Jughead more room to move. “This is ridiculous. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“We’ve done it in a car before.” He flicked his tongue over her clit and she threw her head back in pleasure. She felt him wince against her as the crack of her skull against the window reverberated through the car. He slowed his movements, looking up to check on her. “Are you okay?”

“I will be as long as you don’t stop doing that,” she warned, winding her fingers into his hair and guiding him back down to her core, groaning as he lapped hungrily at her, probing her folds with his tongue. “ _ Yes _ ,” she hissed, tilting her hips into his touch, into his mouth. 

She was teasing one of her nipples with the hand that wasn’t buried in his hair and as he looked up at her he thought he’d never seen such a vision. “Jesus, you’re fucking  _ ethereal _ ,” he mumbled into her, sucking her clit into his mouth and relishing in the whine she let out.

“No one else has ever described me as ethereal while going down on me,” she said breathlessly, a smile playing at her lips. He chuckled and then stilled, pulling away to look at her seriously. 

“You’ve, uh… other guys have…” He couldn’t finish the thought and she bit her lip, her eyes shifting awkwardly away from him, but the confined space of the car didn’t give her anywhere to go.

“Uh, yeah. I, um… I’ve dated a little this year.”

“You… you’ve dated? How many -- .'' he cut himself off, and she suspected that he didn’t really want to know but also needed to have his curiosity satisfied. He looked slightly awkward and she was suddenly aware he still had two fingers inside her. 

As the thought crossed her mind he slid his fingers from her, wiping them off on her thigh and trying to meet her gaze. “I know it’s not really my place to ask, and I have no right to -”

She spoke over him, cutting him off. “So you haven’t…” too late she remembered what he’d told her the year before about his social circle, and she finished the sentence lamely with “...met anyone?”

“No. I haven’t really… I mean… I don’t really know that many people in Iowa.”

“Yeah, I remember,” she said lamely. A silence fell between them and she shifted uncomfortably before reaching for him, her hand resting on his cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s… it’s okay. We’re not…  _ together _ , and you have every right to… I just hadn’t really thought about it, I guess.” He ran a hand through his hair, and she was conscious of the fact that he could likely still smell arousal in the small space, kneeling between her legs as he was, and despite the seriousness of the moment, she could see he was still painfully hard inside his jeans. 

“I know. I’m still sorry.” She bit her lip again and his eyes flashed. She knew he wanted to kiss her, soothe the raw spot with his tongue. It had always been his go-to move. “I really ruined the moment, huh?”

“I mean… I’m still ready if you are,” he said hesitantly, stroking her inner thigh lightly, watching her pupils dilate as her arousal came flooding back through her body.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.” 

She shifted upward, getting to her knees and straddling him on the seat, taking his mouth, claiming it as her own. She ground against him, her wet slit pressing against the seam of his jeans and causing a guttural groan to escape her without conscious thought. 

“Turn around” he commanded, his voice husky with arousal. A thrill went through her as she pictured the position he wanted her in and she shifted off his lap so he could shove his jeans and boxers down. 

She repositioned herself to sit on his lap facing away from him, palms pressed to the back of the seat in front. As she settled into position, his cock pressed against the cleft of her ass and a delicious shiver went through her. He suckled at her neck as she writhed against him, her own hand reaching between her legs to play with her clit. She was aching for him, in desperate need of his touch.

Jughead pushed her hand aside, taking over rubbing circles on her clit and his calloused fingers felt  _ so fucking good  _ against her that she moaned, loudly, and rolled her hips. 

“Fuck me, Jug,” she begged, bracing herself on his thighs and lifting up so he could notch himself at her entrance, tapping his cock against her clit a few times, drawing a strangled sound from her throat. 

When she slid onto him, her eyes fluttered closed and she clenched her muscles, the feeling of him filling her so much better than anything else she’d experienced. She supposed that probably meant something but didn’t have the mental capacity to examine it too closely as he pushed his hips up and the head of his cock pressed against her g-spot exquisitely. 

“Fuck,” she groaned, sliding against him. “This feels so good.”

“Better than your other guys?” he taunted, digging his fingers into her hip. She retaliated by slapping his thigh, hard, and he let out a strangled grunt.

She gripped his leg, digging her nails in as she rode him. “Can you not talk about other people while you’re inside me?”

“Hey, you brought them up earlier, I’m just continuing the conversation.” He nipped at her shoulder and she hissed with the pleasure-pain combo. The punishment of the action combined with the glorious feeling building inside her had her brain fuzzing, unable to remember any witty comebacks she could use on him. 

“Fine. Then yes,” she ground out, pleasure coursing through her as she moved over him. “You’re better.”

“Good,” he growled, guiding her movements faster, her ass slapping against his thighs. The sound echoed in the space and it was delightfully filthy. Jughead smoothed a palm over her spine, his hand sliding against her soft skin until he reached her neck, winding her hair around his fist and tugging lightly. 

She let out a high pitched keen, bracing herself against the front seat, bouncing faster in his lap. He slid one of his hands from her hip to her breast, squeezing the ample flesh. 

She craned her neck, turning her head in an attempt to catch his lips and they kissed messily, teeth clashing and knocking against one another as their hips moved in unison. 

Jughead let out a hiss as Betty rolled her hips again. “I’m not going to last much longer if you keep doing that.”

“Good,” she rasped. “Because I’m starting to feel like I might be getting a foot cramp, so fuck me harder, get me off and we can continue this at my house.”

“How are you even  _ real _ ?” He pushed his hips up into her, one hand coming down hard on her ass before sliding over her hip and between her legs, rubbing hastily at her clit, feeling the place where his erection was moving in and out of her. “ _ God _ , you’re glorious.”

“ _ Yes _ , Jug.” She rolled her hips, coaxing him to hit that spot she truly craved, her head tipping back as he did so. “Come in me.”

Her filthy demand seemed to have the desired effect on him and as he spilled into her with a guttural groan she went rigid, jerking and moaning in his lap with the intensity of her orgasm. 

Betty fell forward, her forehead touching the seat in front of her and Jughead stroked her back as he tried to catch his breath. “Jesus, I need to stop smoking,” he panted.

“You’re smoking now?” She tilted her head sideways, trying to meet his eyes. She didn’t like the thought of him smoking, the inherent bias her mother had instilled in her affecting her judgement. 

“Oh. Uh yeah, I started about a year ago. Just after our last…”

“You know smoking is bad for you, Jug.”

“I know.” He heaved a breath, leaning forward to press kisses along her spine. “You got any tissues in this car?”

“There should be a travel pack in my bag. And don’t think I’m going to let you change the subject that easily. We’re going to pick this up again later.”

She levered herself off him, reaching into the footwell for her bag and extracting tissues, passing a wad to Jughead as she wiped herself hastily, eager to get on the road and back to Elm Street. Alice was away for the weekend and Betty was looking forward to recreating a particular night from their senior year on the living room couch. And perhaps one of the numerous times they’d made love in the generously sized shower in her bathroom. 

Betty threw her sundress over her head, leaving her panties and bra abandoned on the floor, giggling as she realised Jughead was still practically fully dressed. 

“We really just fucked in my car and you didn’t take any clothes off. We need more self control,” she said, still giggling as she climbed out of the car and slid back into the front seat. 

Jughead mumbled something she didn’t hear and when she asked him to repeat it he just shook his head, smiling at her and brushing her hair behind her ear. She couldn’t deny the warm feeling she got when he looked at her like that and she had to remind herself again that their arrangement was not one where feelings should be involved. Part of her knew that as long as they were doing this she’d never move past him, but another - much bigger - part of her wanted to take what she could get where he was concerned. 

“What are you doing now that you’ve graduated?” she asked as she navigated the short drive to Elm Street. They’d talked through her plans with the FBI academy during their dinner at Pops, but their libidos had gotten the better of them before they managed to talk about Jughead’s plans. 

“I actually don’t know. I’m leaving Iowa, for sure, but I don’t know where I’ll land. I’m headed to Ohio to see the family, and Dad and I might take a trip on the bikes for a while, but I really don’t know beyond that.”

She felt a ripple of disappointment. She wanted to hear him say that he had a job lined up, that he had a plan, and she was disappointed to find out he didn’t. She felt a pang of guilt then, knowing that she could have subtly guided him into having a plan if they'd been in a different place in their lives and their relationship. 

“Jug...” she said hesitantly, not sure where she was going with it or what she wanted to say. 

“I know,” he replied with a nod. “I know I should have a better plan. I just don’t know what I  _ want _ .” He choked on the word  _ want _ , and her heart clenched a little; she wanted to help him figure it out but she wasn't sure whether it was her place to do that anymore.

“Do you want to talk it out?” She was still hesitant, biting on her lip in fear of his brush off, but it didn't come. Instead he smiled blindingly and squeezed her hand where it rested on the gear shift.

“Thank you, Betts. I’d love that.”

.

By morning, they had a plan. He was going to stay in Toledo with his family for a while and work on his novel (he told her he had the beginnings of three different ones and he still needed to decide which to dedicate his time to) and try to nail down a literary agent, no matter where they were based. He did want to stay in the East, so he was going to focus on agents in New York, Boston, and possibly even Chicago. 

Of course, their planning had taken hours and hours as they continually interrupted themselves for sex. They’d discussed cities and agents as she rode him slowly, not rushing to a climax, just enjoying the feel of their bodies joined so intimately. 

She’d languidly stroked his cock as he explained the plots of his three half-written novels to her, his words faltering with every firm twist of her hand, every tickle of his balls, every time she thumbed over his tip, smearing pre-cum. Eventually he’d spilled over her hand in the midst of an explanation of where he was up to with his Jason Blossom story.

“So, Toledo and then New York, or maybe Boston,” Jughead said sleepily, his body wrapped around hers, sticky and sweaty from their latest energetic round. 

“Next stop, New York Times Bestseller List,” Betty replied, her voice heavy with sleep. 

“I’m going to head out, let you get some rest.” Jughead started to move but Betty made a noise of protest, clutching his arm. 

“Stay,” she begged. 

“That’s not a good idea,” he said sensibly. He kissed the crown of her head, holding her tighter for just a moment before releasing her. “Sleep well, Betts. See you next year.”

“Next year,” she mumbled as sleep overtook her. 


End file.
